


Tumble to the Ground

by anr



Category: Law & Order: Special Victims Unit RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-29
Updated: 2008-12-29
Packaged: 2017-11-18 10:20:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/559929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anr/pseuds/anr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He rationalises.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tumble to the Ground

**Author's Note:**

  * For [surreallis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/surreallis/gifts).



> Request: Chris/Mariska and comfort gone a little too far.

The episode is a mind-fuck, the filming gruelling. They're on a shortened timeframe thanks to the weather, trying to fit in as many scenes as they can before the predicted snow front hits New York, and the eighteen hour days feel endless. He's tired -- _exhausted_ \-- and sick to death of Elliot fucking Stabler.

"El," Liv's hand is soft on his shoulder; he stares unblinkingly at the metal cot next to them, "go home."

He shudders and slowly, slowly turns his head to look up at her. "Liv --"

Neither of them move.

  


* * *

  


He's been staying at the Hotel Chelsea for the past three days, unwilling to sacrifice even forty minutes of his sleep in order to make the trip home and back again. He rationalises that even if he _did_ go home, Dante and Sofia wouldn't be awake to see him, but he still feels like a selfish prick anyway.

He calls Sher as soon as he gets to his room, and listens to the day's highlights, and he's pretty sure he calls her _Kathy_ at least twice but she doesn't comment on it and he doesn't know if that makes it better or worse. When they ring off, he can't even be bothered with getting up from the bed to change or shower -- just links his hands behind his head and closes his eyes.

His shower is still running; he's asleep before it can stop.

  


* * *

  


He jerks awake less than an hour later, cold and stiff from lying on the covers. Forcing himself to move, he strips off and climbs under the sheets; throws an arm over his eyes and tries not to think about how it's less than five hours until he's due back in interrogation.

Mariska stirs, rolling over and burying her face into the curve of his neck, mumbling something unintelligible under her breath.

"Mmm?"

She sighs, breath ghosting over his flesh. "Tired..."

"Mmm."

Her breathing slows again; he drifts away.

  


* * *

  


He wakes to soft noises, a sound that is half groan, half cough. Her hands are twisting in the sheets, her back just arching off the mattress. When he turns onto his side and lays a hand on her shoulder, her eyes blink open and she breathes out, " _El_."

He's not surprised -- he's done the same thing himself, once or twice before, when the script is this fucked up. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he tries to wake them both up. "Mish. Mish, it's Chris."

She exhales unsteadily and closes her eyes, tension leaving her body in a rush. "... Chris?"

"Yeah." Rolling over onto his back, he presses the heels of both hands against his eyes. "You okay?"

"Yeah." She sits up and pulls her knees up to her chest, dragging her fingers through her hair. "Shit."

"Don't sweat it." Groaning, he drops his hands back down to his chest and scratches. "What time is it?"

"Half three."

"Great." They have to be up in another forty-five, back on the set half an hour after that; he doesn't want to calculate how much sleep he _hasn't_ had. Sighing, he reaches out and skims his hand down her arm. "C'mere."

  


* * *

  


Mariska stretches out on top of him, her legs tangling with his.

"Chris," she says clearly, touching his face with her fingertips. " _Christopher_."

Smoothing his hand up her spine, he cups the back of her head. "Which scene?"

Her smile is crooked. "The video tape."

Against his will, the images flash through his mind, out of context but no less disturbing. He doesn't bother to remind her that it's all fiction. "I know."

She nods and shifts against him. "How long do we have?"

"Half an hour or so."

When she leans down to kiss him, he tastes her smile, bittersweet and achingly familiar. His body hardens beneath hers, and everything else just fades away.

  


* * *

  


Afterwards, they shower together to save time. He's too tired for a second round but it's comforting to have her close, her hands slipping across his chest and back, his hands buried in her hair, rinsing away shampoo. He kisses her under the spray and it's tempting to fight his exhaustion, and the clock, but that way leads to decisions he knows neither of them are ready to acknowledge. Reluctantly, he pulls away.

  


* * *

  


David's waiting for them on set when they get out of hair and makeup, a tray full of Starbucks beside camera one. Chris grabs a cup as they take their marks, downing half of it before passing it over to Mariska.

"You guys ready?"

Mariska circles him, brushing her hand across his hip where nobody can see. "Yeah," she says.

Fisting his hands, he nods. "Let's do it." This day -- fuck, this _episode_ \-- can't end soon enough.

Behind the camera, David rocks back on his heels. "Annnnnd... action!"

  


* * *

  


Neither of them move.

  


* * *

The End

**Author's Note:**

> ORIGINAL URL: <http://anr.livejournal.com/322637.html>


End file.
